


to see the sakura

by riseforth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sad Oikawa Tooru, but this was just sitting on my computer, first fic let's go, i guess?, i've never posted anything before, man i don't know anymore, this is gonna flop so badly, we'll see how this goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 07:07:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16236686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riseforth/pseuds/riseforth
Summary: in which oikawa is a florist, and iwaizumi is his classmate with a very irritable girlfriendalso in which oikawa screws up the meanings of flowers





	1. in which oikawa screws up

 

     It was a few minutes until the hour hand hit eleven _p.m._ when Iwaizumi Hajime barged in, breathless, a hand over his chest as he gasped out, “Holy shit, I need the biggest bouquet you can get me. _Fast.”_

     The male behind the counter blinked, hands freezing with his pale turquoise scissors mid-cut. The stalk of the flower he was—key word: _was—_ cutting dramatically bent over, unable to hold up its head high any more. He made eye contact with Iwaizumi—wide-eyed, frozen-in-the-moment Iwaizumi— coffee brown eyes narrowing. A hint of irritation coated his next words. “The sign says closed.”

     “Oikawa-san?"

     Oikawa blinked again to confirm his suspicions. _“Iwaizumi-san?”_

     Iwaizumi nodded slowly. He _knew_ the store had a familiar name—Oikawa’s Floristry. “We’re classmates, right? Class 3? Please tell me I didn’t mistake you for someone else.”

     “You didn’t.”

     Iwaizumi probably knew why his classmate was acting so standoffish. It _was_ practically the middle of the night, and Oikawa was probably just finishing off the last of his orders before heading off to sleep. They were both third years in high school, and Oikawa was probably just as concerned with his college admission exams as he was. Still, he needed the bouquet, and Oikawa’s Floristry was the only flower shop with the lights still on. Iwaizumi took a step forward to get closer to the counter and promptly tripped over a low vase containing some bright yellow flowers.

     The crash echoed in the deadening silence. _Echoed._ If Iwaizumi didn’t need that bouquet like his life depended on it, he would’ve hightailed his ass out of there. The icy glare Oikawa sent his way as he rushed over to assess the damage sent the room’s temperature plummeting. Iwaizumi scooted back with pink dusted over his face, hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment as he watched his classmate hover over the broken pottery, shards of clay and soil and the remains of sunflowers? scattered all over the gray marbled floor.

     “I can pay for that!” He quickly stammered out, hoping his voice was as reassuring as he thought it was. Oikawa pulled a broom and a dustpan out from behind the counter, handing it to Iwaizumi. “You don’t have to pay if you just clean it up. Those carnations were about to die, anyways.”

     As thankful as he was that his wallet could remain full for a bit longer, Iwaizumi was still concerned with one thing. “Um, can you make me a bouquet? Any flowers will do—she’s not very bright in the whole flower language thing—and I’m willing to pay any price you name.”

     Oikawa was silent, hands moving to discard the particular flower he had been cutting earlier when Iwaizumi barged in. Iwaizumi closed his mouth, feeling that it was better to not push Oikawa’s buttons; they’re not very familiar with each other, and he doesn’t know what might make the brunet uncomfortable. He gripped the handle of the broom tightly and proceeded to make jerky movements to clean up the mess he created.

     “I don’t want to sell a customer just any flowers,” Oikawa finally said, and Iwaizumi looked up, green eyes glimmering. Oikawa continued, eyes shifting to the ground instead of his customer, “Why do you need flowers?”

     “Um, my girlfriend—she got mad at me for something and wants to break up with me. Any flowers for that?” Iwaizumi confessed, concentrating on the spilt soil. Oikawa doesn’t reply for several heartbeats, then made an ‘aha!’ sound. “Amaryllis, white chrysanthemums, some orange lilies, and some colorful tulips! That should convey your lo… ve…” He trailed off at the end, blushing lightly. The freckles on his nose were made much more prominent against the pink canvas of his face. “Uh, sorry if I blabbered too much. I’ll work on your bouquet immediately.”

     “Don’t you have other orders to take care of?” Iwaizumi arched an eyebrow. Not that he was complaining about Oikawa doing his order first; he was just curious. “Or any homework? Tests to study for? We have a math test in two days, if you forgot.”

     “I didn’t forget,” Oikawa whined childishly, clearing his countertop to make room for the new bouquet. “I can do my homework in the morning. Also, I don’t have any other orders, actually. My mom and dad takes care of all of those; I just tend to the flowers. B-but it’s okay! I’ve been practicing!”

     So he wasn’t even supposed to be cutting flowers? Iwaizumi didn’t really care; he just needed flowers as quick as possible. His girlfriend didn’t know the difference between a rose and a lily-of-the-valley anyways, so it was alright. He finished sweeping up his mess in time to see Oikawa lumber to his counter from the backdoor behind him, leading to the garden. The brunet had several pots of flowers balanced precariously in his arms, and Iwaizumi briefly considered helping him. Oikawa dropped it all off on his counter before he could, though, so the green-eyed male settled for watching Oikawa prim the leaves of the flowers after handing him his broom and dustpan back.

     “What’s this flower?” Iwaizumi found himself blurting out before he could stop himself, promptly slapping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. His finger had been pointing to a flower with wide, overlapping white petals. It had a deep purple center, with some of the color bleeding into the white, and sat atop an elongated light green stem. Oikawa looked up, peering at him from underneath his fringe of eye-matching brown hair. “This one? It’s an amaryllis, symbolic of _splendid beauty.”_

     Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow and withdrew his hand. Not really what his style was, but it sounded like it would help him win his girlfriend back. Plus, what did he know about flowers? Next to jackshit, really. It was better to leave it up to the florist, even if he was only an apprentice.

     Oikawa finished up the batch of amaryllis, gently dropping them into a wide bowl filled with clear water to keep them hydrated while he prepped the rest. He moved onto the pot containing some more white flowers, and Iwaizumi felt the need to ask him why he was choosing so much white.

     “White chrysanthemums mean _loyal love._ Its ending, ‘anthemon’, means ‘flower’ in Ancient Greek. Chrysanthemums in general represent _optimism, joy,_ and a _long life,”_ Oikawa hummed, fingers deftly snipping away at a wilted leaf. “They’re a really nice species of flowers since they have so many varieties with so many meanings.”

     Iwaizumi blankly stared at him. Long life? Iwaizumi wasn’t sure she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But whatever, Oikawa’s still the professional here. Plus, it was rather nice actually listening to his classmate without the squabble of the girls who always gathered around him.

     Oikawa’s already moved on to the next species of break-up-fixing-flowers, ones that Iwaizumi faintly knew. Long stalks with longer leaves, and sunset petals cupping around the yellow bulb inside and tapering off into a soft point. “These are lilies. I chose orange lilies specifically because they mean _passion,_ and that’s all girls ever really want, right?”

     He looked to Iwaizumi for confirmation, and said male nodded. That _is_ all they really wanted, right…?

     “And this last batch of flowers are called tulips,” Oikawa started, spreading said flowers out before him to line up their stalks. Iwaizumi blinked—he _at least_ knew of tulips. They were his mom’s favorite flowers, and there were always vases full of them scattered around his house. Noting his interest in them, Oikawa continued with a small smile and a happy lilt to his voice, “Historically, they were considered the symbol of the Ottoman Empire by the Europeans. Do you like history, Iwa-chan?”

     “Not really,” he admitted before his brain processed the second part of Oikawa’s statement. _“Iwa-chan?”_

     Oikawa hummed noncommittally in reply, not offering him an explanation to the weird nickname as his fingers worked to rearrange the flowers into a presentable bundle. He then crouched down past Iwaizumi’s line of vision, rummaging through the counter’s hidden drawers. He straightened up with a lavender-colored length of ribbon that he used to tie the flowers together, finishing with a nice bow. Iwaizumi fidgeted as he wrapped up the entire bouquet with more sunset shades of tissue paper and clear thin plastic sheets to keep the moisture from seeping through.

     “Here you go,” Oikawa cheerfully told Iwaizumi, who accepted the bouquet with one hand as the other rifled through his leather wallet for money. Oikawa waved his hands in front of Iwaizumi’s face, stopping him. “It’s okay, you can have it. Free of charge.”

     Iwaizumi doesn’t bat an eye, but kept his hand on his wallet. “Why…?”

     “You kept me company, Iwa-chan. It was nice to finally meet you properly,” Oikawa smiled, dimples showing, and Iwaizumi’s grip on his wallet loosened. He pocketed it after Oikawa reassured him that it really _was_ a gift. “Plus, if I had sold you it, my parents would wonder why I was cutting flowers for a customer.”

     Iwaizumi used his now-free hand to rub the back of his neck, a dark blush crossing his tan face. “Um, thanks. For giving it to me, I mean. Sorry, by the way,” he added, “for keeping you up late on a weekday.”

     “It’s fine,” Oikawa dismissed it. “I should be thanking _you_ for giving me the chance to try out my skills. So thank you, Iwa-chan.”

     Iwaizumi left after that, the tinkling of the bell and sleepy brown eyes following him on his way out. Oikawa proceeded to clean up the scraps of flowers littering the countertop, stifling a yawn with his fingers. His eyes fell on the pot of amaryllis, admiring the softness of its white petals before his heart stopped in realization. _“Shit.”_

     He racked his brain, recalling images of the flower in front of him and amaryllis, the flowers that he was supposed to have gotten. Amaryllis shouldn’t have white petals, they should have red… and they weren’t supposed to be this short either; amaryllis have longer stalks. Oikawa fucked up. Badly. He’d accidentally given Iwaizumi’s girlfriend a bunch of anemone, symbolic of _fading hope_ and _forsakenness._ Gods, he really hoped that she was as dumb in the language of flowers as Iwaizumi told him.

     Or else he’ll never get the chance to speak to his new friend again  and admire his arms.


	2. in which oikawa talks about roses

     “Good morning, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa greeted him cheerfully, holding his fingers up in a wave. Iwaizumi doubled back, eyebrows creasing at the nickname. He shoved his hands into his pant’s pockets, muttered an excuse to his friend—some fellow third year named Hanamaki, a lanky guy with pink (“It’s rose!”) colored hair—and made his way over to Oikawa’s desk, which was situated on the opposite side of the room. He stopped with a frown. “Stop calling me that.”

     “Did she like the flowers?” Oikawa hummed, looking up at him with a smile. The edges of Iwaizumi’s mouth curled up gratefully, relief seeping off of him in waves. “Yeah, she did. Thanks, again.”

     “It’s no problem,” Oikawa told him sincerely. “I liked it. It was fun talking to you.”

     Right. Like one could call whatever happened last night _fun_ and _talking._ Iwaizumi opened his mouth to lie, tell him that yeah, it was _really_ fun, but their homeroom teacher entered the room before he could. So the green-eyed male bid Oikawa bye and returned to his seat, diagonally behind Hanamaki. Class 3’s first subject today was math, and their teacher proceeded to remind them about the test tomorrow while Oikawa furiously scribbled down notes. Math was the brunet’s worst subject, and he was already failing the class. The next math test was the only thing that can bring up his grades at this point.

     Iwaizumi snuck glances at Oikawa throughout the complicated trigonometry lesson, nearly choking when all he saw were brown strands splayed out above Oikawa’s desk. Was he _asleep?_ Was it Iwaizumi’s fault for keeping him up too late yesterday? Oh gods, he needed to wake him up before the teacher realizes—

     “Oikawa-san, I don’t tolerate sleeping in this class.”

     Said male awoke with a start, eyes wide as he hurried to wipe away the bit of drool on the side of his mouth. At least Iwaizumi could tell him he tried. It was definitely all his fault, no doubt about it. Should he actually _buy_ flowers from him to make up for it? It seemed to have made Oikawa happy yesterday when he was offered the chance to cut flowers for a customer, so… 

     “Please come see me after school,” the teacher continued in the same flat, monotone voice, reverting his gaze from said male to the whiteboard to continue his lesson. Several snickers followed his statement, but they were quelled almost instantly from Oikawa’s legion of warriors. “Iwaizumi-san, please stay after school as well.”

     Hanamaki had the _audacity_ to laugh out loud, but was quickly silenced by the glare Iwaizumi sent his way. The entire class swiveled their heads to either look at him or Oikawa, or somehow at both of them at the same time. Oikawa confidently met their stares head on, even going as far as wiggling his fingers at them in a wave, while Iwaizumi sunk deep into his seat, blushing a deep red. Why was _he_ also in trouble?

     The rest of the day passed in a flash, and Iwaizumi emerged with some more knowledge about Oikawa. The brunet’s confessed to many times a day (sometimes from girls who have confessed before), he doesn’t like natto (is he even Japanese?), and that he’s absolutely _shit_ at any kind of math. Which is kind of the reason he’s been told to stay behind, apparently.

     The pair of them waited for their teacher to finish grading up the last of the assignments turned in today in their respective desks. Neither of them felt the need to get up just quite yet. The class had already cleaned up the classroom and were well on their way home at this point. Hanamaki had jokingly told Iwaizumi to have fun before joining arms with another third year that Iwaizumi didn’t know very well, but Oikawa seemed to have, because he kept whining out his name. “Mattsun, help me!”

     Mattsun—Matsukawa—had merely stuck his middle finger up and had left with a laugh and Hanamaki. Iwaizumi’s pretty sure he heard Oikawa cursing Matsukawa’s dick under his breath. He didn’t know how to help. Nor did he really want to.

     “Oikawa-san,” their teacher suddenly called out, breaking the silence. Oikawa visibly flinched before standing up, chair sliding back with a creak. “Yes!”

     “Your grades in math are so terrible they bring a tear to my eye,” his teacher flatly said, gesturing to his gray eyes hidden behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. Iwaizumi supposed they _did_ look a little moist. “What do you not get about math?”

     “Well, I understood it before they introduced the alphabet,” Oikawa dryly said, sighing in very, very obvious distress. Iwaizumi repressed the urge to laugh. Oikawa shot him a look that said he clearly heard the little amused wheeze of air through the tanned male’s nose. Their teacher frowned at the both of them, clearly done with their shit as he placed down the stack of papers he’d been straightening onto the desk with a loud thunk. 

     “Iwaizumi-san, seeing as how you look close to Oikawa-san and you have good grades in math, I would like for you to tutor Oikawa-san for the math test tomorrow. It’s his last chance to make a passing grade in my class without having to stay for supplementary lessons, and I have _complete—”_ they both cringed at his monotone voice, “—faith in both of you. You are dismissed.”

     “Wait, am I only tutoring him for _one_ day?” Iwaizumi asked, also standing up. Oikawa had already packed up and was ready to go, hovering around his desk as he shot Iwaizumi a look that clearly said _shut-up-and-let’s-go-already._ Iwaizumi ignored him.

     “If his grade improves, then yes,” he replied, glaring at them from over the top of his glasses, “but if they don’t, you're stuck with each other until Oikawa-san makes up his supplementary classes.”

     Oikawa quickly pushed Iwaizumi out of the classroom after that, not wanting to lengthen his death sentence. Iwaizumi didn’t protest that time.

桜

     “My parents found out that I ‘sold’ someone a bouquet yesterday when they discovered the missing flowers,” Oikawa told Iwaizumi as they neared Oikawa’s Floristry, footsteps and leg strides in synch. Iwaizumi made an apologetic face. “Sorry, it’s my fault. I can explain to them if you want.”

     “Nah, Iwa-chan. You don’t have to,” Oikawa said, the skin near his eyes wrinkling as his mouth , “since it’s because of you that they decided to let me actually fill an order today.”

     “Today? As in, right now? Like, in the time I’m supposed to tutor you for the test tomorrow?” Iwaizumi fired out questions, eyebrow arched incredulously. Oikawa nodded in reply, smiling like he was _okay_ with this predicament. Iwaizumi wanted to punch him. If his test scores didn’t improve on tomorrow’s test, their teacher would know that either Iwaizumi sucked at tutoring, or he didn’t tutor the idiot at all. Either way Iwaizumi was doomed to fail. “Um, is this order urgent?”

     “Yep,” Oikawa popped the ‘p’ in the word, to Iwaizumi’s irritation. “It’s for a wedding that’s taking place tomorrow morning.” They arrived at the front of Oikawa’s flower shop as the conversation ended with Iwaizumi shooting Oikawa a disbelieving look. If the brunet noticed he didn’t say anything, only pushed the glass door to the shop open. The bells rang to announce their presence.

     Now that he wasn’t half-asleep, Iwaizumi could actually see and appreciate the flower shop more. It was situated in a three story building, with the shop being the first floor while the Oikawas resided in the two floors above, accessed by a winding stairway near the back behind the counter. Ready-to-go bouquets lined the wall on the left, while the right was filled with various pottery made for holding flowers. Scattered around the front were more pots containing an array of flowers, all facing the sunlight—they weren’t for sale, and Iwaizumi deduced that Oikawa’s garden wasn’t big enough to hold all of the flowers they needed.

     “I’m home!” Oikawa called out to nobody in particular. A female voice, young-sounding but definitely older than the pair of them and coming from behind the back door answered in the same loud tone, “Hey Tooru, you’re taking care of that wedding order, right?”

     “Yeah!” Oikawa yelled back. “I brought a friend over, too!”

     “Matsukawa-kun?”

     Iwaizumi felt the need to step in before Oikawa could blurt out anything stupid, like his nickname for the green-eyed male. “Uh, no, ma’am. My name is Hajime Iwaizumi, and I’m here to help this idiot study for our math test tomorrow.”

     “Iwa-chan, I can talk for myself! And I’m not an idiot!” Oikawa complained, turning around with the pout of a child who’s been refused candy to glare at Iwaizumi. Said male shrugged. The female voice yelled back, “Study? You have an order to fill, y’know!”

     “I know, I know! Geez, stop being so pushy, Kaede! What kind of older sister are you?” Oikawa complained, dropping off his schoolbag on the first wooden stair step. It made an audible thunk as it hit the step, prompting Iwaizumi to do the same, albeit reluctantly. Abandoning his schoolbag meant he was agreeing to Oikawa filling an order instead of learning about how to figure out the derivative of x. He did _not_ want to agree.

     “We’re going to have to go through the garden to cut roses, since the customer wants them as fresh as possible—” Oikawa noticed the irked look Iwaizumi was giving him and hastily added with a nervous chuckle, “—all while you teach me about math, of course!”

     Iwaizumi blankly stared at him. “Are you stupid? I can’t teach while following you around, I need to show you diagrams and formulas, you idiot! I’ll just tutor you while you’re cutting the flowers. _Inside.”_

     Oikawa easily agreed, because that meant he could freely talk about the various kinds of roses he was going to show Iwaizumi. And because it also meant that he could procrastinate a bit more on the inevitable math lecture. He led the green-eyed male through the back door, running into his sister on the way. They looked extremely similar, like if Oikawa decided to ever dress up in drag, Iwaizumi noted.

     “Ah, Iwaizumi-kun!” She blinked up at him, extending a hand and beaming, white teeth showing just like her younger brother. He firmly grasped her hand—“Shake hard, and shake well!” he recalled his dad talking to his younger self—as she introduced herself to be Kaede Oikawa, only female, older than her brother by eight years, and proud mother of a child named Takeru Oikawa who occasionally helps out with watering flowers and weeding the garden.

     Oikawa rolled his eyes at her, and Iwaizumi’s grateful when the other male pulled him away. A basket weaved out of strips of pale wood was hanging off of Oikawa’s arms when they stepped out into the sunlight, a pair of scissors glinting inside. Iwaizumi held his hand up to his face to shield his eyes, squinting at the rather large garden. Three medium-sized greenhouses sat to the left, and the rest of the land housed rows and rows of colorful flowers.

     “The three greenhouses house flowers that need specific conditions to thrive, and everything else grows wildly out in the open,” Oikawa explained upon noticing Iwaizumi’s confused look. Iwaizumi grunted in vague understanding—he still didn’t know all that much about gardening. Or whatever this is. 

     He could only follow Oikawa as said male led him through the maze of plants, pure white canopies where ivies strung from, an advanced watering system that involved a bunch of things Iwaizumi didn’t know even _existed._ Oikawa slowed down to a stop in front of a long row of red rose bushes, prompting Iwaizumi to do the same.

     “This couple wants roses, and _only_ roses,” Oikawa informed Iwaizumi, rubbing a silky red petal of said flower between his forefinger and thumb. “We grow pretty much every flower in our garden, except any endangered or very rare ones. We’re not certified to handle them… yet. But we know another flower shop who is, so if anybody requests for any we ask them—Kageyama’s Blooms.”

     “Kageyama…” Iwaizumi sounded out, faintly remembering it as being one of the stores he tried to hit up yesterday in his search for an open flower shop. He also remembered wanting to kick down the door in frustration, too, but thought it was probably for the best that he didn’t bring that up in any conversation. His eyes fell back on the lovely crimson shade, and Oikawa noticed.

     “You know what red stands for, right?” 

     “Faintly. Love or something?” Iwaizumi felt inferior to Oikawa, even though he really shouldn’t because they’re just _flowers_. Tons of people don’t even know what an—what was it called…—amaryllis was.

     “They’re the most popular flower because they convey deep emotions, be it _love_ or _longing_ or _desire._ They can even convey _respect, admiration, devotion, sorrow._ Do you like roses, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked him, beaming brightly. Iwaizumi squinted at him like he was the sun. “Not particularly, but I guess I like them more than some other flowers.”

     “I’ll take that as a yes,” Oikawa happily hummed his way through several rose bushes to join Iwaizumi where he stood in front of a gorgeous orange rose bush. He gently pulled a single rose out from the tangle of stems, leaves, and thorns; Iwaizumi saw the sunset captured in its large petals, saw the golden gleam of the sun reflected. Oikawa smiled, white against the backdrop of orange and green. “Did you know that sending twelve red roses is the ultimate declaration of love? Isn’t that romantic, Iwa-chan?”

     “Only red?” Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. “That’s oddly specific.”

     “Different colors of roses have different meanings; they don’t _all_ mean romantic things. Didn’t you know that?” Oikawa pulled out his favorite pair of scissors and got to work, snipping at each stalk carefully. He placed each cut rose vertically into his wicker basket, letting in lay against the side. “Orange roses signify _passion._ They rival red roses in terms of declaring love.”

     Iwaizumi scowled. “Why would I know that? I grew up playing with bugs, not flowers.”

     “Well, don’t bugs tend to hang ‘round flowers? Don’t bugs _eat_ flowers or something?”

     “Shut up,” Iwaizumi grumbled, following Oikawa as he led him to the next rose bush with his arms crossed and a frown marring his features. He ran through a list of math formulas they might need for the math test tomorrow as Oikawa scoured the bush for fully grown roses, not buds that populated most of the space. They were colored pleasant shades of purple, ranging from pale lavender to midnight. 

     “What does purple stand for?” Iwaizumi asked dryly, half sarcastically. Maybe some small part of him wanted to know; he’s not sure. The grin that lit up Oikawa’s face when he showed interest in the flowers, however, _is_ actually pretty nice. 

     “The darker shades give off a sense of royalty, don’t they?” Oikawa delicately pulled said shade up to the dimming light, marveling at the paler veins that ran through it. Iwaizumi shifted closer to get a glance, and Oikawa continued after giving him a tentative look, “They’re used for conveying your _fascination_ or _adoration_ for someone. And the lighter ones… lavender shades of roses express _love at first sight,_ so if you have someone you fell for, send them some.”

     Iwaizumi looked up to see Oikawa staring at him, corners of his mouth quirked up crookedly to show his dimples. The setting sun behind him provided a backlight, making Oikawa glow as if he was stealing the sun’s light itself. Iwaizumi swallowed thickly, felt his hands go clammy—why? why were his hands so cold? why was his heart beating so fast?—and took a step back, quickly, quickly. 

     His eyes peered up to meet Oikawa’s, and suddenly he saw twin orange roses budding— _blooming—_ in his brown irises. Full of fire, passion, pride for the things he’s done. Iwaizumi saw a king in him.

     He took another step back, because Oikawa’s presence was too heavily weighted in Iwaizumi’s mind.

     If Oikawa noticed his sudden discomfort he didn’t say anything, much to Iwaizumi’s relief. He only finished up cutting the necessary amount of purple roses he needed while Iwaizumi tried uselessly to calm down his breathing. He _did_ , at some point, cast a worried look over to Iwaizumi. And Iwaizumi _did,_ at a later point, blushed a bright cherry red.

     Oikawa quickly moved onto the next color the couple requested: green. They lied past a bush of sunny yellow roses—“They’re used to indicate _purely platonic_ feelings. Just friends, nothing more; we don’t want that for a wedding now, do we?”—near the row of ivory white. Iwaizumi furrowed his eyebrows at the hurried explanation of the color yellow—Oikawa had spent quite a bit of time on the other three varieties, so why rush this  one?

     The brunet gestured to the green flowers with a flourish, a wide grin easily splitting his face. The space between Iwaizumi’s eyebrows creased further. Oikawa had his own life and reasons, so who was he to pry? To diffuse the slight tension in the air Iwaizumi half-heartedly offered a comment on the peculiar green shade. “I’ve never seen green roses before. They’re natural, right?”

     Oikawa’s shoulders relaxed minutely, going unnoticed by Iwaizumi who deliberately kept his gaze glued to the rose bush in front of him. “Yep, we crossbred this—” he pointed to a leafy green one, swirled with milky veins that gave it a marble-like effect, proudly grinning, “—color. The darker shades we got from the Kageyamas when we were just starting out.”

     Iwaizumi lifted his head up to sweep the garden, still avoiding Oikawa’s stare. “I don’t see any blue or black roses.”

     “Dumb Iwa-chan; there’s no such thing as natural blue or black roses,” Oikawa _giggled._ Iwaizumi’s right hand itched with the urge to connect with Oikawa’s pretty nose. “But I’ve seen them before, at my mom’s wedding a few years ago.”

     “Do you have a stepdad, then?” Oikawa perceptively asked before realizing what he blurted out with wide eyes. The hand holding the pair of scissors slapped itself over his mouth with a loud noise, sharp blades narrowly missing the tip of his nose. Iwaizumi wished they didn’t.

     “Uh, yeah,” Iwaizumi confirmed slowly, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. Oikawa blinked at his answer, turning away from both him and the conversation with the grace of a king. 

     “Green roses symbolize _fertility, abundance, richness._ A nice meaning for a wedding, right?” 

     Iwaizumi hummed in confirmation, stepping back to give the florist room to snip off a small handful of the flowers, placing them in his basket and covering them with a thin towel. “We’re done!” Oikawa chirped happily, pocketing the scissors and linking his free arm with Iwaizumi’s, steering him back towards the direction of the house. Once inside, the pair split up; Iwaizumi practically jogged to his backpack—no way was he staying here for more than necessary (even though his heart says otherwise)—while Oikawa strolled to the counter to prep the flowers.

     “Okay, can you multitask?” Iwaizumi appeared in front of the counter, pulling a chair behind him with his textbooks in tow. “I can teach you while you’re… cutting the flowers or something. Whatever you do.”

     “Alright, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa agreed easily, nimble fingers skimming over the stalks of the roses as he worked to deftly cut away any thorns or imperfections. Iwaizumi nodded, flipping open his textbook to the unit they’re currently on. “So, derivatives. What don’t you get?”

     “Honestly, Iwa-chan? I don’t even get basic Algebra.”

     Iwaizumi stifled a sigh at the brunet’s answer. It was going to be a long night. 

**Author's Note:**

> soooooo
> 
> this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and wasn't really ever meant to see daylight  
> but y'know, let's just post it and see how it goes?
> 
> it's gonna flop so badly i can already see it i'm so sorry for this abomination
> 
>  
> 
> i'm also not an expert in flower language so please excuse any mistakes!!


End file.
